Tom
by julyblues
Summary: Ever wake up in someone else's body?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story is based on the book _Flip_ by Martyn Bedford.

Disclaimer: I do not own Flip or Pitch Perfect.

* * *

 **TOM**

CHAPTER ONE

 **DAY ONE - 07:53 A.M.**

Like most mornings, Beca was brought into consciousness by the sound of banging on the door. Furrowing her eyebrows, she groaned and turned onto her side, nuzzling her head into her pillow groggily. Her mother usually let her sleep on a few more minutes after waking her up, so she let her entire body relax, sinking into the mattress. She must have been laying on her arm all night, as it felt oddly numb beneath her, as if it was detached from her body entirely. Moving her arm slowly out from beneath her, she raised her leg up and trapped some of the duvet in-between her legs, wincing at how difficult it was for her to do so, the muscles in her stomach relaxing after the great effort she just used. Beca slowly shifted onto her stomach and breathed in deeply, before frowning at the unfamiliar scent surrounding her.

Her eyes sprung open.

Something was off.

She immediately moved onto her back, her eyes wide with bafflement and horror. Her pupils darted around the sunlit room, her temples beginning to ache in fear. She lay in that one spot, unable to move as she let her surroundings soak in, taking in the posters of various football players and bands Beca thought were crap, taking in the large, wooden desk in the corner that nowhere near resembled her own desk, and also taking in the room before her that was most definitely not her room. She twisted her neck so she could stare directly in front of her, and saw a closet, wide open, full with male clothing, each t-shirt and hoodie more jock-like than the last, resulting in an inevitable eye roll from Beca. Turning her head again, she looked down at the floor beside the bed, to see clothes that very obviously belonged to a boy (or man, given how big they were), crumpled in a messy pile by the bedside locker. This caused Beca to frown, wondering briefly where her own clothes were.

It was clear that she was in a college dorm, as it seemed that all of this boy's possessions cluttered this half of the room, ranging from an acoustic guitar lying face down on the carpet, to heavy, open texts books resting on the desk. The other side of the room was a lot neater, with another bed in the corner, already made.

Beca would have been very confused, if it wasn't for the feel of the warm, soft sheets on her bare back and legs, indicating that she was very much naked. She scrunched her face up in frustration and cursed herself. She knew she got drunk the night before, but she didn't know she was _that_ wasted. She had never had a one night stand before, and had never planned on it, and there she lay, in some strange guy's bed, who lived in a college dorm, it seemed, without a clue of where she was.

A loud, booming voice made its way through the door, startling Beca. "Tom, get the fuck up, man. Football practice starts in ten." Beca panicked, wondering if this guy was _Tom_ _'_ _s_ roommate. She was terrified to turn over to see that this guy was still in the bed, but she figured it was probably going to be impossible to get out of this room without knowing. Cringing with effort, she slowly rolled over to the left, one eye barely open, to see the other side of the bed completely empty. She sighed in relief, not without noting how odd her body felt at that moment. It felt heavy, yet impossibly fluid, almost as if she was still drunk.

More pounding on the door made her jump slightly, her heart rate increasing by the second. "Dude, it's eight in the morning. Get dressed and let's go!" This was what puzzled Beca the most out of that mornings events so far; it couldn't have been eight in the morning. It was December, there was no possibility of it being bright at eight. She turned to look at the window to the right of the bed to make sure she wasn't still in a daze and this _Tom_ hasn't left the light on, and sure enough, sunlight beamed in through the glass, lighting up the entire room.

Beca sighed, growing more puzzled by the second. She was ready to heave herself out of bed, when something on the bedside locker caught her eye, stopping her dead in her tracks. Her heart halted it's beating altogether when she saw a digital clock, with the date printed on it, bold and large, impossible to miss.

April 16th.

That wasn't possible. Beca scrunched her eyes shut, and opened them again, trying to make sense of all of this. This Tom guy could have the wrong date on his clock, but that doesn't explain why it would be bright outside at eight in the morning, in _December_. She went through the events of the night before in her mind; she was dragged out to a club by her friends to celebrate Jessica's birthday, she had had a little too much to drink (evidently), and got a cab home with the girls, early because they had school the next day.

She had no recollection whatsoever of any encounters with a college student named Tom.

Beca raised her arms to her head, grasping it in anxiety. It took her a few seconds of heavy breathing, but once she noticed the weight of her hands on her scalp and the force she used to grab it, her eyes bulged out of her head. She had no idea she possessed such strength, but when she let her fingers expand, feeling them slip through short, tousled locks on top of her scalp, she reacted immediately. She stretched her arms out in front of her, and what she saw made her blood run completely cold, her entire body freezing.

Those were most certainly not her arms.

In a panic, Beca grabbed the duvet and flung it off her body, looking down in horror at what she was staring at.

And, well, if her arms weren't any indication that something was very wrong, then the penis she had, attached to a body that _definitely_ didn't belong to her, certainly was.

She gasped, suddenly unable to breathe. A rush of adrenaline hit her, making her swing her legs over the side of the bed in a flash. She tried to stand up, but immediately crashed down to the carpet, moaning in pain, briefly forgetting her situation. Once her body caught up with her brain, she placed her large palms on the carpet, and with uncontrollably shaking arms, she hoisted herself up onto her knees, still in a flurry of anxiety. She slowly managed to rise to her feet, and, grabbing the desk chair for support, started taking short breaths, each one shallower than the last.

This was a dream. This couldn't _not_ be a dream.

"Tom!" a voice from outside the door yelled, accompanied by more pounding. "You have one minute before I'm getting Dustin."

Beca lunged towards the door, hoping that the person on the other side of it might be able to supply her with some answers on what the fuck was going on. She took the handle and threw it open, it flying backwards so fast that it smashed against the wall, breaking through the paper of one of the posters that hung there. She clutched onto the doorframe for assistance, finding it impossible to stand up straight on her own.

The guy looked at her with annoyance in his eyes, before they flickered downwards. He immediately recoiled backwards a disgusted look on his face, bringing his arm up to shield his eyes. " _Jesus_ , man. Put on some boxers."

"What is going on?" Beca managed, the sound of her voice surprising her. It was deep and masculine, causing a tickle to shoot up and down the inside of her throat.

The boy frowned at her, finally coming to his senses. "What the fuck do you mean, man? How much did you have to drink last night, Tom?"

"Tom?" Beca's arms were still shaking by her sides, and she moved them behind her back in an attempt to hide them. "I am not Tom."

The guy just stood there, his mouth hanging open a little bit. "Okay, man, I know you went out last night with some of the guys but I thought you would have known not to get too drunk the night before we had practise."

"I…" Beca stumbled over her words, her vision becoming blurry and spotty, as if she was about to pass out. "I need to go."

He simply looked at her, dumbfounded. Obviously, 'Tom' wasn't well known for having fits like this at eight in the morning. "Okay…? Put some underwear on first, at least." He smirked a bit at her, but Beca wasn't finding much humour in the situation.

She nodded vacantly, staggering over to her bed, and shoving her legs through the pair of boxers that were lying on the floor. Calvin Klein. If Beca wasn't in such a state, she would have rolled her eyes again because _of course_ Tom was the type of guy to wear Calvin Klein.

She stood on shaky, long legs and shuffled over to the door, leaning against the doorframe once again. "Where are the bathrooms?" she demanded, completely overwhelmed.

"You've been living here in these dorms for months and you're honestly asking me that?" he laughed, disbelief lacing his tone, before looking at Beca's face and realising that there was no joke behind her words. "God, you must still be smashed. It's down the hall to your left, bro." He motioned down the corridor to Beca's right, his eyebrows pulled together, perplexed. "Don't drop dead on your way there, we need you for Saturday's game."

Beca was out the door immediately, scaling the wall as she went. Her feet banged heavily against the floor, the sensation completely alien to her. She got about halfway down the hall, when she heard the guy's voice from behind her. "Don't bother showing up for practise. Coach will strangle you if he sees you in this state."

Beca ignored him once again and pushed her way along the doors through the corridor, her palms running against the wall for support. Her eyes self consciously landed on the face of every person she passed along the way, their odd looks and surprised expressions making her feel even worse than she thought possible.

When she finally made it into the male dorm bathrooms, a sense of relief washed over her when she noticed that it was empty. She stumbled over to the sinks, grabbing hold of the cold marble, staring down at her large hands in disbelief. She was terrified to look up at the mirror, thinking that she would be unable to handle what awaited her. She didn't want to believe that this was happening. This couldn't be happening. It _had_ to be a dream. This couldn't be real life.

Grinding her teeth, Beca took in a deep breath and slowly looked up, each second that passed sending stabbing sensations to her stomach. When she took in what she saw, everything just _stopped_.

The reflection staring back at her was a boy, or a man, rather, who was probably around eighteen or nineteen, but looked to be in his early twenties. His short brown hair lay in a messy, sleepy heap on his head, his astonished, suddenly alert eyes a deep, emerald green. His cheekbones were high and defined, and he raised a hand to drag his curious fingers along a sharp jawline. The light stubble on his cheeks and chin indicated that he hadn't shaved since the previous morning, and the lines on his forehead grew deeper and more fearful the more he was looked at. The 'ruggedly handsome' description suited him very well, his toned arm and ab muscles flexing as he reached his right hand up to cover an open mouth. The word jock sprung to mind when you looked at him, his shoulders square and his posture perfect.

Only, inside this masculine body was a female, Beca Mitchell, specifically, screaming and begging to be let out.

Beca toppled backwards in shock, frightened tears springing into her eyes. Her back hit a small door rather hard, and she placed a hand on her chest, trying but failing to breathe normally. Before she knew it, her oesophagus was voluntarily contracting, the back of her throat pulsing as she turned and crashed through one of the stall doors and hunkered down, holding onto the sides of the toilet for dear life as she dry heaved. She spluttered pathetically, sobs rippling through her body as she retched. The pain in her chest and head was unbearable, and after a few minutes of trying but failing to vomit, she let her new body fall to the floor in a heap, before pulling her legs up into herself and letting the side of her head drop against freezing tiles. She felt tears trickle down the side of her face and land on the floor below her eyes, and she clenched them, before closing them altogether.

This wasn't real. Was she in this guy's body? Was that even possible? Who _was_ she?

More sobs irrupted from her chest as they finally made their way to her larynx, her mouth opening with a loud scream. It was deep and terrifying, causing Beca to clamp a hand over her mouth, her desperate cries muffled by her huge palm. She breathed deeply and slowly, her sobs quickly dying down, her mind and body suddenly too tired to continue.

Beca didn't know how long she was lying there, but the sound of sneakers approaching her brought her back to her senses. She almost wanted to get up, but given how heavy her entire body felt at that moment, she couldn't do it if she tried. She weakly raised her head to look at her company, a different guy to the one at the door, whose eyebrows shot up his forehead at the sight on her. "Rough night?" he asked with a smirk, his thick British accent not going unnoticed by Beca.

When she only replied by letting her head fall back down against the tiles, the boy tried again, clear concern in his voice this time. "Tom, mate, are you alright?"

Not possessing the energy to shake her head, Beca let her fingers twitch, giving him all the information he needed. "Okay, mate, let's get you up and back to our room."

Beca let this guy (or Tom's roommate, so it seemed), to place his hands on her back and, not without digging his nails into her shoulder blades, pulled her up to a sitting position, earning a hiss from Beca. She let her eyes fall on the man's outfit, and luckily he was wearing a name tag, presumably for work, which read 'Luke'.

Luke then moved behind her so he could push his arms through Beca's own. He twisted his wrists upwards so he could hold onto her shoulders, and then dragged Beca slowly up to her feet. She managed a weak, gracious smile at him, before collapsing into the wall, using it to balance herself. "Let's get you back to bed," Luke said soothingly, wrapping an arm around Beca's upper back, her automatically throwing her own arm around Luke's shoulders for support, quickly noticing that she was taller than him. She leaned into him as they made their way slowly back to their dorm, and once they arrived, Luke lead Beca to Tom's bed, before assisting her in getting back into it.

"Are you sure you're alright, Tom?" Luke asked hesitantly, taking a seat at the end of the bed.

Beca let her eyes fall on the wall behind Luke's head. "Can you tell me where I am?" she whispered, afraid to blink with the tears collecting in her eyes, threatening to start falling again.

Luke started at her for a moment, his face stoic, before he broke into a large, face splitting grin. "Y'know, you're the weirdest fucking hungover person I've ever met." He smiled at her for a second, before deciding to humour her 'hungover persona'. "Baker Hall."

When Beca shifted her eyes to his face so she could look at him blankly, he responded with a roll of the eyes, obviously not in the mood for Tom's antics. "Barden University."

Beca gave him a slight nod of the head, along with a relieved exhale. She was getting somewhere. "In…" she trailed off, afraid this guy was about to tell her she was in fucking England or something.

"Atlanta."

Her entire body froze for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, and her arms jolted beside her, threatening to start shaking again. "Who _am_ I?" she stuttered, trying to ignore the growing fear in Luke's eyes.

"Tom, are you _absolutely_ sure that-"

" _WHO AM I_?" she screamed, throwing her arms up in the air and pushing her fists back down onto the mattress, too angry and scared to be alarmed at the volume of her voice and the power of her arms.

If Luke was shocked at her outburst, his face barely showed it. He shuffled a little downwards on the mattress, away from Beca, almost making her feel slightly guilty for upsetting him. "Do you need me to call the campus medic?" he asked, seeming to have gotten tired of how the person in front of him was acting.

Beca shook her head fiercely. "I just want to know one thing," she uttered, leaning forward on the spot towards the British man. "Who. Am. I?"

Luke just stared at her, studying Beca's face of any sign of humour, or practical joke. Evidently he found none, because after thirty seconds of simply looking at her, he finally spoke. "Medic it is." And with that, he stood up, and strode out of the room, banging the door behind him.

Beca let out a loud exhale, finally permitting the tears to pour down her cheeks, reaching up to her head and dragging her hands down a rough face.

 _Who am I?_

 _Who_

 _Am_

 _I_

* * *

 **So? Thoughts?**

 **Chloe will be introduced in the third chapter, you guys. It** **'** **s a slow moving story, but hopefully it will be worth it.**

 **Until next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

 **DAY ONE - 08:46 A.M**

"Okay," Natalie, the campus doctor, drew out, removing the electric thermometer from Beca's ear and squinting at the screen. "You have no actual fever." She placed a cool hand on Beca's left cheek, letting it rest there for a moment, before pulling it away, her expression confused. "But your skin is burning up. Probably a result of stress."

Beca shrugged a little, looking down at her then pyjama clad lap. She had just about managed to compose herself in time for the medic's arrival, calming her cries and uncontrollable breaths just seconds before Natalie barged through the door, with an annoyed Luke in tow.

Natalie crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair in front of Beca, who sat on the edge of the bed. "You're showing no signs of intoxication either." She glanced over at Luke, who leaned with his back against the door, his arms folded defensively across his chest. "Why did you think he was drunk?"

"He was acting like a Grade A loony," he bit back, narrowing his eyes at Beca, earning a gulp from her. "Although, now that the pretty doctor is here, he's perfectly fine again."

A small, sly smile formed on Natalie's lips, but before Beca knew it, it was gone, replaced with a professional one. "Well, Tom," she started, turning back to her. "Can _you_ explain to us why you were acting that way this morning?"

Beca opened her mouth to reply, before realising she had nothing to say. She was a deep thinker; she often spent her free time going through possible scenarios in her head, and figuring out the best cause of action to take. She would have liked to think herself well prepared for all sorts of mishaps, but waking up in a strangers body without any clue of what was going on or what to do, she had not ever prepared herself for. She weighed the options in her head logically: she could explain what was happening, and that she needed help in order to get back to her original self, but then internally rolled her eyes at herself. What sort of people would believe her or take her seriously? And even if they did, by some miracle they did want to help her, _how_ could they? Beca was positive she had never met anyone who knows the ins and outs of soul transportation, or whatever the hell this was, so it was quite unlikely that she was sitting in front of two experts of it right there and then.

By the time Beca made a decision, she realised that her mouth was hanging open unattractively, with Luke and Natalie blinking at her, staring the way one would look at an ignorant child. "It's nothing," Beca stated, firmly yet nonchalantly. "I… was trying to skip practise."

Luke raised an eyebrow, but before he could weigh in, Natalie stood up, shoving her notebook under her arm. "Well, I'll be off," she sighed, and it just hit Beca how tired Natalie looked. "No more wasting my time with lousy excuses, okay Tom?" Her words were annoyed, and Beca would have thought that she upset her, but the wink and smile Natalie sent her afterwards told her otherwise. "See you, Luke." The door closed quietly, the tension growing thick between Beca and Luke.

He broke the silence between them, shaking his head. "How could you be so selfish, Tom?"

"Me?" Beca asked, genuinely puzzled. "How was I being selfish?"

"Natalie hadn't even started this morning yet. I had to fetch her from her friend's dorm. You wasted her time."

Beca nearly laughed, realising she was arguing with this complete stranger as if they were old friends, about something so stupid. "If I recall correctly, _you_ were the one who wanted to go and get her. I actually remember asking you _not_ to."

"Because you were scaring me." Luke's face relaxed, nearing closer to Beca until he reached the bed, climbing onto it and sitting cross-legged opposite her. "You know how I get when it comes to you, Tom."

That sentence hit Beca hard, and it made her realise how difficult it was going to be for her to pull off 'being' Tom, if she had to for much longer. She knew nothing about him, and as far as she knew, he and Luke could have been involved romantically. She didn't get that vibe from him at the beginning, but what Luke said really made her think. Or, it could just be that Tom had confided in Luke in the past, with some deeply personal things, which resulted in Luke's protective behaviour. Either way, Beca was completely unaware, and completely screwed.

She wasn't sure of how Tom himself would reply to that exactly, so she went with the generic response. "Sorry," she whispered. Luke kept looking at her expectantly, so she felt like she had to muster up something to say. "I really do feel sick… I just played it up because I'm not on Dustin's good side right now and would only let me stay here if I was really bad." She mentally high-fived herself for remembering what the guy at the door had said to her earlier. The way he said it, almost threatening to get Dustin, as if it would truly have been the last thing Tom would have wanted. Dustin must be one scary guy.

Luke nodded in understanding. "Gotcha." He suddenly jumped to his feet, striding over to his desk chair and picking up a backpack, slinging it over one shoulder, before turning back to Beca. "You gonna be alright, mate? I can't really miss my shift at the station this morning, I have a couple of newbies starting today." He grabbed a light jacket from the back of the chair. "If you're still bad tomorrow, I'll stay with you. Deal?"

Beca nodded, forcing out a tight smile. "Deal." Once Luke had left the room, she felt relief wash over her, allowing her to grieve and panic in peace. She raised her arms and dropped her face in her hands, noticing how different both her palms and her face felt, rougher and sturdier than her _actual_ face and hands. She breathed deeply, cursing herself internally because she _would not_ cry again. She knew crying was most definitely an appropriate response to being in her current situation but she just couldn't allow herself to. It made her feel even more lonely and vulnerable, less able to cope.

She still would not let herself accept that this was happening. These things don't happen in real life.

Immediately, she sprung up from the bed, sudden motivation to put things right hitting her. She picked up Tom's denim jacket from the floor, and searched for a phone in the pockets. Nothing. She dumped the coat on the bed and tried his shorts next, digging her hand into one of the back pockets to find a silver, relatively new iPhone 6. She placed her thump on the home button, praying Tom had set up Touch ID and didn't just have a passcode, but suddenly she was in, the text and phone call settings available for her usage. With shaking hands, she messily typed in her father's cell phone number, and held the phone to her ear.

She didn't know what she was thinking? What would she even say?

Beca didn't have much time to flounder, as an automatic voice on the other line informed her that her father's number had been disconnected. She bit her lip, searching through all the little nooks and crannies of her brain, trying to remember his office phone number. Dr Mitchell was a well known plastic surgeon who was always either working or playing darts in his office, so there was a large chance he was by his phone. She dialled the number once she could remember it, but once again, it was telling her that his number was disconnected.

She definitely wasn't remembering wrong. Those were his numbers. Beca was absolutely baffled as to why he would get new numbers, since he had regular clients with whom he always spoke to on the phone. Would changing numbers not make that messy?

Her last shot was her father's secretary's phone, since Beca had never bothered trying to memorise Sheila's cell number, as Beca had been so sure that Sheila wouldn't stick around long (spoiler alert, and much to Beca's annoyance: she did). The phone call was actually going through for Dr Mitchell's secretary, and Beca let out a large breath she wasn't holding. But, her relief was only temporary, as the next thing she heard on the phone was his secretary Ann's voice, but she wasn't saying what Beca wanted to hear: ' _Hello, you_ _'_ _ve reached Dr Vincent Mitchell_ _'_ _s office on Friday, April 14th. The office is closed for Saturday until 10 a.m, Sunday the 16th. Please try again after that hour to make a consultation, or leave a message._ _'_

She didn't have time to be surprised that they were opening on a Sunday, because before Beca knew it, she heard a beep beside her ear, and decided to just go for it. "Hi… Uh, I hope you could pass this message onto him. I need him to hear this. Dad… It's me. I… I know that's really hard to believe and trust me, I'm having a hard time with it myself, but it's me. I don't know where I am, I'm really, really scared." Her voice broke, but she managed to suck in the tears for just a few more words, whispered out against the bottom of the phone. "Please call me back, I need to talk to you and to hear your voice." She couldn't have said more if she wanted to, because there was another beep, signalling the end of the message.

Tears spilled from Beca's eyes, and she rubbed them away from her cheeks angrily, taking a few, calming breaths to hold herself together. She realised what she really needed to do was leave, and clear her head with a walk around the campus, but that was out of the question then. She could barely raise her arms, let alone walk. Tom was at least six foot two, possibly six foot three, and Beca was accustomed to manoeuvring a body that was a whole foot smaller than that. No wonder she found it almost impossible to move.

Secondly, she didn't really know what to say if she bumped into someone who asked her why she wasn't at football. She wouldn't know what they would do. She wouldn't have a clue of what anyone would do or say if they stopped her to talk. She needed to get to know Tom.

But firstly, she needed to know what the fuck was happening.

A lightbulb appearing above her head, Beca sat down on the bed scooted up further so her back rested comfortably against the pillows. She unlocked Tom's phone, and clicked on the safari app. But, of course, since the universe was evidently not working in her favour, the safari page wouldn't open because there was a lack of wifi signal in Tom's dorm. "You have got to be fucking kidding," she muttered, closing her eyes and throwing her phone on the bed beside her. She didn't know what she was going to do shut in this little room for hours. The inside of her head at that moment was torture, and without a distraction, her negative thoughts kept becoming worse and worse. It was almost unbearable. Each notion kept shouting louder and louder over the other ones. The inside of Beca's head had never been so loud before. This was the most upset and conflicted she had ever felt in her life. She was in desperate need of a distraction, and quick.

She rested the back of her head against the wall, too tired to cry again, when another idea struck her. She picked up the phone again, and clicked into Tom's text messages.

If she was going to have to pretend to be this guy for a period of time she didn't know the length of, she would have to try and get an idea how he talked to certain people. In the inevitable event that Beca was going to have to speak with Tom's friends and classmates, Beca need to learn how he acted with them. She needed to learn whether Tom was reserved, or outgoing, or whether he treated women with respect, or ownership. The last thing Beca needed was Tom's friend's getting at her, wondering what was wrong with her and why she was acting so strange. She just wanted to drag as little attention to herself as possible, and finding out some bits of information about Tom was the way to do that.

Scrolling through all the text conversations on Tom's phone, Beca was immediately not impressed by how many girls he texted, and their names on his phone: _Ashley (Tall)_ , _Madison (glasses),_ and worst of all, _Rebecca (Boobs)_. Her eyes rolled far back into her head, clicking onto his conversation with _Ashley (Tall),_ unsure she ever wanted to see what Tom had said to this Rebecca girl _._

 _Wed, March 1, 22:36_

 **Tom: what are you doing later?**

 **Ashley (Tall): Homework, why?**

 **Tom: wanna come over? luke is working late ;)**

 **Ashley (Tall): Can** **'** **t, I have a paper due tomorrow. Friday?**

 **Tom: sure thing. can** **'** **t wait to see you :)**

Beca smiled a little bit, noticing that Tom wasn't a _complete_ douche to his lady friends. She could probably deal with that.

She searched through all this texts, learning that he had over two hundred girls' numbers in his phone, so that explained his one word description of their appearance in their contact name. She decided that Tom didn't seem all that bad; even though he was hooking up with an uncountable amount of girls at the same time, and even though she had to read through some pretty painfully graphic sexting, she found out within the texts that all of these girls knew that Tom wasn't looking for anything exclusive, and neither were they. He wasn't stringing them along, pretending to like them, only to be sleeping with other girls behind their backs. They all knew right well what Tom did in his spare time, and Beca respected his honesty.

She also noticed Tom's helpfulness, his promises of sharing notes and letting his friends copy his homework in his texts to them, showing Beca once again that he was a decent guy.

There was just one thing that bothered her, deeply.

Tom was ruthlessly persistent. He managed to get his way most of the time it seemed, getting into the pants of pretty much all the girls in his contacts.

Except one.

There was one text conversation with someone Tom referred to as _Chloe (Red hair),_ that troubled Beca. Tom obviously wanted to add her as another notch to his bedpost, and she wasn't having any of it. Tom didn't get aggressive in the texts, or threatening, but he wasn't taking 'no' for an answer, which made Beca want to shout at the screen. Especially since this Chloe girl seemed so damn nice.

It started off innocent enough:

 _Dec 2 2016, 18:53_

 **Tom: hey**

 **Chloe (Red hair): who is this? :)**

 **Tom: it** **'** **s tom, from your russian lit class. remember? i came in late this morning and prof. d brought me to sit the front of the class?**

 **Chloe (Red hair): oh yeah, hahaha :D hi then!**

 **Tom: i was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat later tonight? and if you** **'** **re not free tonight, then tomorrow?**

 **Chloe (Red hair): that sounds nice, but i** **'** **m busy tonight :( tomorrow works though! :D**

 **Tom: great! i** **'** **ll text you with a time tomorrow. see you then!**

 **Chloe (Red hair): cool! see ya! :D**

The nature of the texts didn't change much the following day:

 _Dec 3 2016, 11:08_

 **Tom: hey chloe, how is 8 tonight for you? i** **'** **ll meet you outside our lecture building?**

 **Chloe (Red hair): 8 is perfect :) where are we going?**

 **Tom: surprise! :)**

 **Chloe (Red hair): i love surprises haha :D see you soon!**

The date must not have gone well though, because they don't text again for another eight days:

 _Dec 11 2016, 19:45_

 **Tom: hey**

 **Chloe (Red hair): hi tom**

 **Tom: you busy tonight? there** **'** **s a party by the pool on east campus**

 **Chloe (Red hair): can** **'** **t, studying :( you have fun though! i** **'** **ll see you in class :)**

 **Tom: O.K, see ya**

Beca frowned when she saw that the next few conversations were of Tom asking Chloe to hang out, and Chloe politely declining with the same slightly tweaked excuse each time.

A month later was when things between them started to drastically change:

 _Sat, Jan 14, 01:32_

 **Tom: clhoe!**

 **Chloe (Red hair): yeah?**

 **Tom: i hav a queston for u**

 **Chloe (Red hair): are you drunk, tom?**

 **Tom: ya**

 **Tom: anyways**

 **Tom: why don** **'** **t you want me?**

 **Chloe (Red hair): what?**

 **Tom: i took you on a date, which i thoguht went O.K, and then u didn** **'** **t want a second one , i dunno i just feel sad abut it**

 **Chloe (Red hair): i** **'** **m sorry, i should have explained it to you, it was unfair to leave you in the dark like that :( i just didn** **'** **t really feel it with you, tom. i don** **'** **t think i should go into it when you** **'** **re like this, but yeah. i** **'** **m sorry it took this long :(**

 **Tom: oh, well that** **'** **s O.K. i thought i did somethng wrong**

 **Tom: but i didn** **'** **t actually want to date you**

 **Chloe (Red hair): you didn** **'** **t? why did you ask me out so much then?**

 **Tom: it** **'** **s how i get my fuck buddies. and you made the cut ;)**

 **Chloe (Red hair): as flattering as that is, tom, i** **'** **m not interested**

 **Tom: oh come on, you know you want to** **…** **;)**

 **Chloe (Red hair): i know that i don** **'** **t**

 **Tom: O.K, u keep tellin yourself that**

 **Tom: i won** **'** **t stop trying**

Chloe became extremely distant after that, her texts with a cold bite to them, and completely lacking in emojis, something she seemed to love using before things went wrong:

 _Thu, Jan 26, 13:49_

 **Tom: hey**

 **Chloe (Red hair): yes, tom?**

 **Tom: nothin, it** **'** **s just my weekly text to try sleep with you**

 **Chloe (Red hair): and this is my weekly text to tell you that it** **'** **s not happening.**

 **Tom: you sure, red? i hear often that time spent with me is not disappointing ;)**

 **Chloe (Red hair): not interested.**

 **Tom: O.K. sorry, chloe :( i don** **'** **t mean to be a dick**

 **Chloe (Red hair): goodbye, tom.**

Beca had had enough, not making it to the end of the texts. She moved off the bed to stretch her legs, since they seemed to fall asleep every ten minutes. She wobbled over to the door and opened it, dipping her head out to check and see if the hallway was empty. Sighing in relief at the sight of no people, she stepped out into the hallway and started walking slowly along it whilst holding firmly onto the wall for support, trying to clear her head of those disturbing texts and trying to release the cramp in her legs.

She could see that Tom was a good guy deep down, he just had the 'want what you can't have' complex, and he had it bad. Tom's other texts revealed that he was a good friend, and treated the girls he was with the same way they treated him. It was just Chloe that seemed to have taken a dislike to Tom, and with very good reason to. Tom was flawed, but not a terrible person. Beca decided in that moment, if she ever met her, to make an effort to be as nice to Chloe as possible.

Once she returned to Tom's dorm, she slowly but surely made her way over to the bed, and clicked the home button on the phone. Her heart stopped once she saw she had a missed call from her father's secretary, and a voicemail. She couldn't believe she had missed it in the five minutes she had been without it. Unlocking the phone and going into voicemail, she raised the phone to her ear and listened closely.

' _You know, it_ _'_ _s people like you who left Dr Mitchell no choice but to get rid of his phone and have all his calls go through me first. It_ _'_ _s just too painful for him, to know that kids like you are taking joy out of his and his wife_ _'_ _s suffering. Dr Mitchell is a very good man, and he does not deserve this_ torture. _It is_ torture. _If you call this number again, I_ _'_ _m phoning the police. You are an absolutely sick, evil person._ _'_ The message clicked off.

The phone fell out of Beca's hand onto the bed, her grip too loose and weak to hold it any longer. She moved her hand up to her mouth, trying to exhale, but unable to. If anything, that call made her feel worse than ever. Why were her parents suffering? What was wrong with her real body? _Who was she?_

Confused, frustrated, angry, devastated. Beca was feeling a lot of things in that moment, and had a lot of thoughts rushing around her head, but one thought was noticeably more dominant than the others.

If _Beca_ was in _Tom_ _'_ _s_ body…

Where was Tom?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, this story is not abandoned! I had exams the past two weeks, but I have a whole week off this week so I** **'** **ll try to write most of the next chapter during this week too.**

 **Just a slight warning that I forgot wasn** **'** **t aforementioned: there will be slight mentions of suicide in this story. It won** **'** **t happen, and it is only mentioned as it is seen as a practical solution to Beca** **'** **s problem, but I thought I should warn you guys, just in case a few of you want to steer clear of anything like that.**

 **Enjoy.**

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CHAPTER THREE

 **DAY TWO - 07:37 A.M.**

Beca shot up straight in her bed, her face and t-shirt drenched with sweat. Her eyes darted all around the room, and upon noticing she was still in Tom's dorm, with Luke dozing soundly in the other bed, she let out a desperate, relieved whimper and allowed her head to fall back down to the pillow.

Beca rarely remembered her dreams, and when she did remember them, they were never vivid, they were blurry and she was unable to remember what exactly happened in them in the morning.

This dream was nothing like that though.

It was the most life like thing she had ever experienced. She was in a car, or a taxi, more realistically, as she didn't recognise the driver. Once she had been seated, and strapped in, the driver turned around, flashing her a wicked grin that immediately made her gulp. Then, he slammed his foot on the accelerator and they went at lightening speed along an empty highway. It was so real, so terrifying. Beca could actually feel the seat behind her pressing hard against her back, the scream trapped in her throat. She placed her palms flat against the seats when she suddenly felt a whooshing sensation in her stomach, as if the car was falling, and when she turned her head to look out the window, the car was headed bonnet first into a lake, the water consuming them completely within ten seconds of impact.

Beca not only felt internal panic in the dream, but she felt physical signs too; her skin became hot, her body shaking, her breathing laboured. She scrambled to unbuckle her seat belt, the severity and fatality of the situation causing her to struggle hopelessly, but by the time she had managed to do it, the freezing water was all around her, threatening to rise above her head and-

That was when she woke up.

Beca lay in her bed, bunching up the duvet in her hands and using it to wipe the condensation off her forehead and cheeks. She glanced over to where Luke lay, his slumber unbroken and deep. She was grateful that her heavy breathing hadn't woken him, because she didn't know how to explain it to him. She didn't even know _what_ to explain to him.

Did that happen to her? Did she drown, or almost drown? Could that be the reason behind her being inside Tom's body?

These were questions she was determined to find the answers to at some point. She needed to know what happened to her. In order for her to move on and move _back_ , she needed to find out the cause. But first, she needed to understand what this was.

Beca had mostly gotten over her depression. Now, she just felt determined.

The day before, after getting over the initial shock of being prised from her own body, Beca began to try to recognise the benefits of taking refuge in Tom's. For one, she was at least a foot taller than previously (which she still hasn't gotten used to, and probably won't, for a while anyway), which was weird, but also strongly empowering. In one day, she had barely managed been able to walk extremely slowly, but it was enough to make her feel strong and alive. She felt a whole lot more confident as Tom (at least for a minute before remembering she didn't belong in his body). It was the feeling of the high self-esteem that comes with being tall that Beca had never felt before. It was peculiar, yet not unwelcome.

Secondly, she couldn't help but like the way people seemed to treat her, and look at her, as Tom. Apparently, Tom knew _everyone_ on campus. After Luke's shift at the station, he came back to the room and suggested that he and Beca took a walk to get some fresh air. Beca had been reluctant originally, frightened at the thought of seeing some of Tom's friends and having to converse with them as if she actually knew them, but she went, regardless. Although she had been stopped multiple times by people (mainly to ask her why she didn't go to practise), Beca managed to get away with a couple of sentences and a promise to talk to them later. As she and Luke walked through campus in silence, (apart from the odd question from Luke, wondering why she was walking funny), the smiles and greetings Beca received seemed to come every twenty seconds. It was definitely odd, to feel like she mattered to people. To be popular. She had to admit, it was nice. Very nice.

But most of all, Beca noticed and appreciated how easy it was for her to breathe. She had been diagnosed with asthma at four years old, and ever since then it had only become more sensitive. A single speck of dust wouldn't send her into a raging coughing fit, but she couldn't walk more than a couple of blocks without reaching for her inhaler. So when she and Luke spent hours just wandering around the campus exchanging very few words, and Beca didn't even come close to feeling short of breath _once_ , it struck her for the first time that being Tom may not have been all that bad. She had long since accepted that she would be plagued with asthma for the rest of her life, and now, she just didn't have to think about that. She found that a few times during her first day as Tom she would pat down the pockets of her jeans, panicking when she didn't feel the slight bulge of her inhaler, and then she would remember. It wasn't a terrible feeling.

Until she remembered the reason she was no longer asthmatic was that she wasn't in her own body. _Then_ the terrible feeling set in.

One of the smaller cons of being trapped inside Tom was his being right-handed. Beca found herself reaching for things with her left hand, before realising Tom's was basically useless. She hadn't written anything yet as Tom, but picking up a pen with her right hand will certainly be something to get accustomed to.

Aside from those benefits and disadvantages of being Tom, all Beca could think about was herself, and her own body. What _happened_ to it? Did she suddenly just go to sleep one night and wake up in Tom's four months later? Did she get in some kind of accident and she was in some sort of coma, or worse, dead? These were all questions that wouldn't leave her alone for the entire first day, but she knew that she hadn't the courage to find out. The lack of wifi in the dorm room almost drove her up the wall, but Luke returned from the station, he informed her that she could use the library the next day, as it wasn't open on Sundays.

Beca needed to find out what this was. That she wasn't the only one.

Beca reached over to the bedside locker and checked the time on Tom's clock. It was 07:43 A.M. The library opened at nine. She groaned, willing herself to go back to sleep, but the harder she tried, the more impossible it seemed to be, so she slowly and very quietly so she wouldn't disturb Luke, she removed the duvet from her body, and pushed herself up onto her feet, needing a second to find her balance. She stepped in front of the closet, and looked down at her feet and saw a shower caddy that she presumed was Tom's; it had the bare minimum-a bar of soap and a bottle of two in one shampoo and conditioner. The impression she had of Tom from looking through his things was that he wasn't one of those pretty boys who gelled their hair every single day and wore cologne whenever they went anywhere a female might be present. Tom seemed to have multiple hook-ups because of his natural good looks and charisma. He didn't need to drench his clothes with Lynx or own expensive clothes-his personality and natural appearance did the trick for him.

Beca slowly reached for the shower caddy, and made sure to close the closet door smoothly, biting down on her lip as she did wrapped her hand around the handle. She stripped her clothing off her, making sure to keep her head held high so she didn't have to see anything, and kicked them over to the foot of the bed, where Tom's bathrobe lay. She swiftly put it on, ensuring the string was tightly fastened around her waist, and headed out the door, throwing a quick glance back at Luke to see him still soundly asleep.

She walked slowly down the eerily quiet corridor, reaching out to the wall every so often so she didn't topple sideways. She was beginning to get the hang of moving around in Tom's body, but she had to pace herself. If she so much as sped up ever so slightly, she would begin to lose her balance. It was really fucking irritating, but it was something she would have to deal with.

Reaching the bathrooms, having to stop herself from stepping into the female ones, Beca picked the shower the furthest away from the door, and hung her robe outside the stall. She pulled the curtain once she got inside and let the cold water wash over her, cleansing her skin of the sweat the nightmare caused. After running the bar of soap over her body, she squeezed the bottle of shampoo above her hand, before coating both of her palms with it. She reached up to run her hands through her hair, forgetting her position for the moment, and got a shock when her fingers wove through the short locks. She sighed, willing herself not to start crying again, and looked down to the tiles, purposely avoiding looking at her penis.

It was definitely an… _odd_ thing she would have to get used to. It was always there, and she found it slightly uncomfortable the way it sort of rested to one side when she was wearing underwear. It was a weird thought to have, but she had kind of hoped it would stay in the very centre (Beca was sort of OCD like that). And erections were just simply distracting and infuriating. She had only gotten two random ones so far, and she wasn't even aroused or anything (her mind was too occupied with other things to be turned on by anything). She hoped it didn't pop up like this very often, because she was completely uneducated on how to hide and handle them.

She supposed there were advantages to having penis, besides the obvious. One of Tom's regular hook-ups, 'Samantha (Southern Accent)', had texted the previous night wondering if he was free for reasons she made very clear, but Beca ignored the text. Even if she hadn't been too distraught to do anything but think about her current situation, she still probably would have said no. She had always wondered what it was like for a guy, but she really wasn't in the mood, and she felt like she wouldn't be in the mood for that sort of thing for quite some time.

She also knew it wouldn't be fair on this Samantha person. She wanted time with Tom, not some random girl who was stuck in Tom's body against her will. It wouldn't be right.

 _You are an absolutely sick, evil person._

Beca clamped her eyes shut, cringing at the memory of the voicemail. Since she heard it yesterday, she could barely get it out of her mind. It didn't take a genius to work out something very bad obviously happened to her original body, and some sociopaths were harassing her parents about it. Nothing had ever made Beca feel so _angry_ before. She wasn't the friendliest or most approachable person, and could be rather irritable at times, but it was rather difficult to truly make her blood boil.

And oh, did this situation do just that.

Just the thought of her parents having to hear stupid teenagers jeer at them because their daughter was in an accident almost made Beca feel _guilty_. If getting into a car with her friends after going out that night in December was Beca's last memory before waking up in Tom's body, she presumed that was what caused this whole thing. If she wasn't so drunk, maybe she could have saved herself. She might have seen what was coming. Maybe she could have done _something_.

Beca sighed, tilting forward so her forehead pressed gently against the tiles of the wall. The cold condensation against her skin distracted her for a moment, before her active mind took over once again.

She had no idea what happened to her real body for this to have happened. Is she dead? Or is she still alive, but in a vegetative state, with Tom left trapped in a useless body? Beca was well aware that the answer to these questions were just a trip to the library and a few clicks of a mouse away, but that wasn't her reasoning for wanting to access internet.

She didn't have it in her to find out what happened to her. Yet.

She didn't want to find out that she was dead. That her real body had been buried months ago and that Tom had died with it, when she was the one who was supposed to die. One way to look on it would be that she was granted a gift-that she had been offered a second chance at life, in a new body. But Beca didn't want that. She didn't want to have to pretend to be Tom for the rest of her life.

She'd honestly rather be dead.

Beca was more interested in that moment in figuring out _how_ she was in this new body, instead of what exactly put her there. She needed to find out what this was. The one truly terrifying thought she had was that she was the only person in the world like this. That she would search soul transportation and synonyms of the sort countless times and receive no proper results, except works of fiction.

The thought of being alone in this made Beca want to die. For real, this time.

Freezing cold water broke Beca from her thoughts and she yelped, jumping backwards. Quickly reaching forward to turn the shower off, she wrapped the robe around herself and swung the curtain open. She padded out of the cubicle and grabbed her shower caddy, racing back to Tom's room.

She entered quietly, wincing as the door creaked closed. Upon seeing Luke hadn't moved from his position in bed since Beca left, she acted immediately, opening Tom's closet and picking out a t-shirt, boxers and a pair of red sweatpants. She hastily threw the clothes on, before pocketing Tom's phone and moving silently to the door, leaving as quietly as she had entered.

The walk to the library wasn't long. Barden University's campus was large, but the library was only around the corner from Baker Hall. She made sure she and Luke passed by it on their walk, so she knew how to get there. She speed walked up to the front doors of the library and tried yanking them open, but they were locked, almost sending Beca toppling backwards at the force she used to pull them. It would take her a while to get accustomed to her new and increased levels of strength.

Beca sighed loudly and dug Tom's phone out of her pocket, clicking on the home button and groaning when she saw that the library opened in another forty minutes. She pressed her back against the wall of the building and slid down it slowly, raising an eyebrow at the phone. She saw that she had missed a call last night after eleven, from _Mom_. A text notification also informed her that there was a new voicemail awaiting her. Beca hesitated, reluctant to listen. She knew that she was Tom for now, and that there was no one else to listen to this message, but she still felt like she was intruding.

Rolling her eyes at herself, she dialled the voicemail number and pressed the phone to her ear.

' _Hey, honey, it_ _'_ _s your Mom. Your father and I were just wondering if you were coming home at all for the summer. We know you_ _'_ _re going to Cancun with Josh and Steven but that_ _'_ _s not until July. Dad_ _'_ _s offering to help you move some of your stuff back home if you_ _'_ _re coming. He got the truck back from Ray a couple of weeks ago, and he wants to use it as much as possible now, you know how he is. He_ _'_ _s even offering to help Gerard Heffernan with bringing his old couch to the dump, you know Gerard Heffernan? Well, your father can_ _'_ _t stand him but I think he just wants to show off the pick-up. Well, here I am getting off topic. You should come home, honey. Just for a week or two. She won_ _'_ _t admit it but Stephanie wants to see you. She misses her big brother. My time is almost up here so I_ _'_ _ll let you go but consider it, okay Tom? Love you, and take care._ _'_

Beca frowned, closing her eyes. She couldn't think of anything worse-having to spend an entire two weeks with strangers who think they know you better than anyone. Tom's family would definitely know something was up. They would know something was wrong with Tom.

Beca forgot that the call to her voicemail was still going through. ' _You have one old voice message, received on April 16th at 10:34 A.M. To listen to this voice message, press 1. To save the message and move on , press 2. To delete the message, press 3._ _'_

Beca's eyes darted upwards, searching her surroundings until she was positive she was completely alone. Taking a deep breath, she pressed 1 and held the phone to her ear.

' _You know, it_ _'_ _s people like you who left Dr Mitchell no choice but to get rid of his phone and have all his calls go through me first. It_ _'_ _s just too painful for him, to know that kids like you are taking joy out of his and his wife_ _'_ _s suffering. Dr Mitchell is a very good man, and he does not deserve this_ torture. _It is_ torture. _If you call this number again, I_ _'_ _m phoning the police. You are an absolutely sick, evil person._ _'_

By the time Beca had finished listening to it, the tears running down her cheeks had reached her neck. She closed her eyes tightly and let her head fall back against the brick wall, the phone still clenched in her hand and pressed roughly against her ear. ' _To listen to the voice message again, press 1. To save it and m-_ _'_

Angrily, Beca jabbed at the screen until the message was playing again, her vision blurry with tears, her chest tightening. ' _You know, it_ _'_ _s people like you who left Dr Mitchell no choice but to get rid of his phone and have all his calls go through me first. It_ _'_ _s just too painful for him, to know that kids like you are taking joy out of his and his wife_ _'_ _s suffering. Dr Mitchell is a very good man, and he does not deserve this_ torture _. It is_ tor-'

Beca had had enough, throwing the phone down against the tarmac, the screen shattering into hundreds of pieces. Beca couldn't find the ability to care. She covered her face with her hands, barely able to breathe. "Daaaaad," she howled, removing her face from her hands to suck in a large gulp of oxygen. "Daaaaaaad. _Dad_." She gasped for more air, sobbing shamelessly against the wall. She curled her body into itself and rocked back and forth slowly, trying to calm herself. The pain in her chest was indescribable. Her asthma attacks had never felt like this before. She felt like she was drowning again.

Again.

Beca didn't know how long she remained there doing that. She cried and begged for her dad multiple times a minute. It wasn't until she sniffed and opened her eyes, that she stiffened and sat up, and stared directly in front of her, humiliation suddenly setting in.

She was not alone.

Before her stood a girl with a stunned expression on her face. She clutched a large, bulging folder to her chest, her knuckles whitening at how hard she was gripping it. Her eyebrows were raised high, as her expression morphed slowly from shocked, to curious. Her red hair was held in a messy bun on her head. It was clear she had only woken minutes ago. Her eyes, although wide and surprised, looked tired. Beca wondered if Tom knew this girl. There were no give away signs from her expression to show this. She just looked horrified at what she had witnessed, as most people would do.

Almost as if something snapped inside her head, as if she realised she had somewhere to be, she broke eye contact with Beca, face burning with embarrassment, and quickly walked away, around the corner of the building and out of Beca's sight.

Beca sat there, unable to know what to do. She couldn't believe what had just happened. She had never felt so unsure of anything before in her life.

There was something she was sure of, though.

This girl just witnessed Tom crying for his dad, and Beca was going to have to confront her about it.


	4. Chapter 4

**This story is currently unbeta'ed. Wink wink. Nudge nudge. PM me if you're interested.**

 **Thank you all for the kind comments. Hopefully all of you will want to take this story for the long ride.**

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CHAPTER FOUR

 **DAY FIVE - 10:56 A.M.**

Beca spent the following two days after the incident with the red-headed girl in Tom's dorm room, feigning illness. She skipped her lectures (she hadn't a single clue about anything Tom was studying), she refused to attend football practise (she would _literally_ get killed out there on the field), and she wouldn't even go on walks with Luke (she didn't want to bump into the girl and have to speak to her before she prepared what she was going to say).

The girl just looked so struck. The look on her face would have been an appropriate response to finding a dead body. It was slightly over the top for simply finding someone sobbing, albeit extremely loudly, on the ground. This made Beca deduce that the girl must know Tom, and was therefore stunned by his behaviour. Perhaps Tom always had a cheery front on. Or, maybe he was just simply always happy. This was Beca's problem; she didn't _know_.

It was during these two days where Beca took on the role of a hermit that she began to slip back into a deep depression. Within an hour of being in Tom's bed after she returned from her not so successful trip to the library, a switch flipped in Beca's head, sending her spiralling back into a state of utter melancholy. _There_ _'_ _s no hope_ , she had thought. _I_ _'_ _m stuck like this forever_.

That was Beca's biggest fear. She couldn't pretend to be someone she wasn't for the rest of her life. She couldn't handle being around Tom's family and friends, who knew something was off with Tom, but not enough was off so that they knew exactly what it was. She couldn't hear the constant ' _are you sure you_ _'_ _re all right_ ' and ' _you_ _'_ _ve been acting strange_ '.

And she couldn't live knowing that Tom was most likely trapped inside her body, which was either dead or alive. Beca still didn't want to know yet.

Luke seemed terribly concerned about Tom. Tom, so it seemed, never felt sad. Or rather, he never projected his feelings externally whenever he did. So, seeing 'Tom' in bed, refusing to move and looking like an emotionless zombie, Luke had noticed the other drastic change, and handled it poorly. He had even started referring to Beca as the 'New Tom', which made her feel even worse. She had tried to grasp an idea of Tom's personality, and attempted to imitate it, but she had royally screwed that up. Her feelings were getting in the way of her objective.

After a day and a half of keeping herself locked up in the dorm, Beca's depressive spell had dissipated. She had begun thinking clearly again, and with that, she started to fully think about her dilemma.

What in the hell was she going to say to the red-headed girl?

She knew she was being idiotic. She realised she would have to address the problem at some stage, and locking herself in Tom's dorm room wasn't going to solve it. But she really couldn't fuck this up. Beca needed help, and she was aware of this, but she couldn't go announcing her problem to the entire student body. She needed to be stealthy, and clever in her search for aid.

That was what the internet was for.

Beca jogged to the library on the fifth day, sunglasses on and hoodie up over her head so no one would see her face. She glanced around suspiciously at the people walking to class, minding their own business and paying Beca no heed. She entered the library and took a long look around.

It was a pretty modern building, probably build only five years ago. It was fairly big too, with a large, glass covered reception box. She exhaled loudly as she took the sunglasses off, slipped them into the pocket of her hoodie and stepped up to the counter, the woman behind it looking at her expectantly. "Uh, I'm here to use to the computers," she said, the strong deep vibrations of her voice feeling and sounding foreign to her ears.

"Library card?" the woman asked, sounding wholly bored.

Beca nodded nervously, digging her hand into the back pocket of Tom's jeans to retrieve his wallet. She didn't know she needed a library card to use the computers, but she presumed that Tom probably had one. She rifled through his cards, fumbling with anxiety at the intense way the woman was staring at her, before pulling one out that read: _Barden University Library Membership_. Beca squinted to take a look at Tom's full name _,_ which was printed underneath a small photo of Tom grinning authentically. _Thomas James Reeves._ Beca slipped the card under the gap in the glass, silently wondering how she had been in Tom's body for four days without even knowing his surname.

The lady looked at the card for a second before placing it under the glass and pointing over at the computers, not uttering another word. Beca mumbled a 'thank you' and quickly shuffled over to the computers and slumped down in front of one, removing the hood from on top of her head. She covered the mouse with her hand and clicked it, the screen immediately lighting up. She opened Google Chrome and rubbed her temples, wondering what she wanted to do first. She shook her head at her indecisiveness and searched for Gmail, quickly creating a new account for her as Tom. The address did not contain Tom's actual name, but instead the letters of his name mixed up: motsevere. Beca smirked a little to herself. Leaving out accents on the vowels, this email address translated from French to mean 'serious word'. She couldn't help but think how appropriate it was.

Beca could feel condensation building up on her forehead as she clicked on the 'Compose' option, her hands hovering over the keyboard. She wasn't sure if what she was about to do was a great idea, but she supposed she had nothing to lose.

She hastily typed Jessica's email address into the bar and started to write. **Hey Jess,** she started, breathing loudly and deeply, her hands mildly shaking. **That night we went out in December** … **what really happened?**

Beca read it over around twenty times, albeit it only being twelve words long. She sighed, covering her face with her hands, dragging them painfully down across the sharp stubble on her cheeks, before thinking ' _fuck it_ ' and hitting send. She changed windows straight away, searching for WikiHow. She wasn't sure if she had the courage to find out whether there were people exactly like her in the world yet, so she decided she'd let them come to her first, before she would start searching. She created an account quickly, her username being ' _iambeca1_ '. **Does anyone know anything about soul transportation?** she typed, shaking her head at how insane she sounded. **Or just, waking up in a body that isn** ' **t yours, and it** ' **s not a dream.**

Beca submitted it and waited, her fingers drumming loudly against the wooden table. She waited and waited, refreshing the page every two minutes. The clock on the wall beside her slipped into another hour, and Beca then realised it might take a while to receive a reply. She sighed, and rested her head on her hand. She knew this was stupid. She knew there was probably no one like this out there in the world. It seemed unlikely that Beca was the only one, but would all of them think like Beca and want to resolve the problem quietly, without dragging too much attention to it? She found it hard to believe that she'd never seen a documentary about this, or even seen it on the news. It would be the only thing on some scientists minds if it was real. If other people suffered from this, not all of them would keep it this quiet.

If it was a legit thing, she reasoned, it would be _everywhere_.

But it _was_ a legit thing. Beca knew this, because she was living it. If anyone had told her before that it was possible to wake up in someone else's body, and live as that person, she would have either scoffed, or laughed directly in their face.

Now, though, Beca took it _extremely_ seriously.

Closing the window of WikiHow, Beca made sure it was the first thing she did to delete her history. The last thing she needed was someone on campus coming across her post and taking it seriously. She was about to log out off her email, shut the computer down and stand up, but something caught her eye on the screen. Her heart shot into her mouth when she saw she had a new email waiting for her, with Jessica's email address in the 'sender' box. With a loud thumping sound of her heart in her ears, Beca double clicked on the message.

 **Who is this?**

Beca exhaled, moving her fingers to the keyboard with determination. **Who do you** _ **think**_ **I am?**

The reply was instantaneous. **But you** _ **cant**_ **be.**

* * *

Beca stayed in the library for an hour, finding that her desire to receive a response to her WikiHow submission was greater than her desire to remain unnoticed. She awaited any sort of reply, but received nothing. Tired and disappointed, she sighed and stood up, flipping the hood back up over her head and strode out of the library, ignoring the woman behind the desk at reception, who ignored her back.

Beca kept her head down as she walked across the grass, her thoughts racing at a hundred miles a minute. She wasn't going to give up hope yet; there had to be _someone_ out there who could help her. There just had to be.

It was a fairly nice day. The students who didn't have to go to class yet were lying on the grass, listening to music, talking to their friends or working on their laptops. Beca envied them deeply; she would have given anything in that moment to be as care free as those people.

She chose the wrong moment to look up because walking in her direction was, much to Beca's surprise, the red-headed girl from outside the library, who seemed to be in a slight rush and was holding the same folder again. Beca hadn't prepared for meeting her again so soon, so she stopped in the middle of the path, waiting for the girl to notice her.

Once the redhead's eyes swept over the horizon and they met Beca's, she stopped in her tracks. She was giving Beca the same look from the other day, yet toned down. The girl's eyes flickered around, possibly trying to find a way around this to not make this situation awkward. It was clear after a couple of seconds that she had no idea what to do.

But Beca did.

"Hey," she shouted, loudly yet not aggressively, jogging up to the girl. Once she was beside her, she noticed that Tom loomed above her. It was still an odd feeling for Beca, to be taller than ninety percent of the people she interacted with. "Can I have a word?"

The girl looked as if she'd rather do anything else but talk to Beca. She gave her a reluctant expression, and finally sighed. "Okay."

"Thank you." Beca led her over to an empty patch of grass, where no one could hear them speak. She kept her voice low, straining to look at the girl in the eyes because of the height difference. "I wanted to talk to you about the other day."

The redhead immediately began to shake her head, taking a step backwards. "I get that you're embarrassed, Tom, but-"

"I'm not embarrassed," Beca shot out, feeling guilty at the slightly alarmed look she received from the volume of her voice. She lowered her tone to a soft hush, stepping forward to neutralise the space between them. "I just wanted to clarify something."

The girl raised an eyebrow, and remained silent, waiting for Beca to speak. Her bright blue eyes searched out Beca's, as if staring deep into her soul. It was quite terrifying, if Beca was honest. It was almost as if the redhead knew exactly what she was thinking, but was waiting for Beca to say it herself.

Beca struggled for words, wincing as she realised she didn't know what she was supposed to say. "I, uh," she started, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck. "I'm really sorry you had to see that."

The girl's eyes widened for a split second, surprise clearly etched across her features. Obviously, she wasn't expecting that response. "That's… okay, I guess?" she replied, her voice rising at the end as if it was a question. "An apology really wasn't necessary, though."

"But it was." Beca had no idea where she was going with this. She was just making this up as she went along, and desperately hoping this girl bought it. "I just didn't… want it to be on your mind."

Beca was slightly taken aback when the redhead rolled her eyes, and knitted her eyebrows into a frown. Shit. "Contrary to popular belief, Tom," she sneered, this time taking a step forward into Beca's personal space. "The world doesn't revolve around you. Believe it or not, seeing you cry outside the library on Monday hasn't been keeping me up at night."

Whoa. Beca's head recoiled backwards in response, clearly not expecting it. What did Tom do to this girl before to receive this treatment? "I know," she said slowly, trying to figure this girl out. "I just wanted to-"

"I know what you want," the redhead sighed, tightening her grip on her folder. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about what happened. Your little buddies won't find out, your reputation isn't on the line."

Beca frowned, opening her mouth to retort, but the girl stepped in immediately, holding a hand up to stop her. "Save it," she said, shaking her head slowly. "I know why you came up to me today. When I saw you come over, I had two thoughts on my mind; either he wants to hook up, as per _usual_ , or he doesn't want me to blab about his little outburst." She smiled sarcastically, giving a half-hearted thumbs up. "Message received, Tom."

It was a rare event that Beca Mitchell would be left completely speechless, but there she was, staring wide-eyed at the redhead, and no words would leave her parted lips. Beca's eyes moved lower, wanting to look anywhere but at the girl's face, and when she did, she caught sight of something on the girl's folder. It must be flipped the other way around this time, as now there is a sticker present, with the girl's name on it, that she hadn't seen outside the library on Monday. She squinted downwards to read the name (Tom really needed glasses, Beca had concluded.)

 _Chloe Beale_.

That name meant something to Beca. She frowned trying to figure out why it seemed familiar, but when a sudden movement in front of her made her head snap up and she saw that the girl had begun to walk away, Beca took a step forward. "Wait." She put a hand on the redhead's shoulder but only for it to be shrugged off, rather roughly. The girl turned around sharply then, with a dangerous look in her eyes.

"I told you to _never_ touch me again, Tom." And with that, she spun on her heel and sped away from Beca. She didn't try to stop her this time. She realised it was futile. This girl really did not want to listen to her, and there was nothing Beca could do to change that.

It wasn't until Beca was watching her walk briskly away, that she noticed the girl's hair. It was long, just above her mid-back. It fell down in waves, slightly crimped, probably from being in a braid the previous day. And as she got further and further away, with Beca's eyes still trained on her head, Beca could only notice one thing about the girl's hair. It was bright, shocking red. That was when Beca gasped, almost stumbling backwards at her revelation.

 _Chloe (Red hair)_.

* * *

The nightmare came back that night.

There was nothing different about it, the experience was the exact same; the taxi, the driver, the drowning. The only different thing about this experience was when Beca burst through to consciousness, Luke was beside her, on his knees beside the bed so he was eye level with her.

Beca collapsed back down to the bed, her face glistening and her lungs burning. She gasped for air, and when she realised she was awake, she covered her face with her hands and sobbed, her fingers spreading to allow for air to get through.

"Hey," Luke whispered, placing a comforting hand on Beca's head and another on her far shoulder, pulling her over to him. Beca accepted the embrace, falling into him and crying into his chest. She balled his t-shirt into her fists and squeezed, pulling him impossibly close. His shirt was probably soaked by now, and Beca was thankful that it didn't seem to bother him. "Bad dream?"

Beca let out a laugh through her tears, nodding as she sniffed and pulled back, laying her head back down on the pillow as Luke still continued to look at her with concern. "Yeah."

Luke remained there looking at her, watching as Beca's eyes began to droop again with sleep. "Do you want to talk about it, or do you want to go back to sleep?"

"Sleep," she mumbled, but giving him a grateful smile. "Maybe I'll tell you in the morning."

Luke nodded, and then hesitated, looking as if he wanted to say something but wasn't sure if he should. Eventually, he caved tentatively. "Do you remembered what you were saying?"

"When?" Beca asked, beginning to drift off to sleep again.

"When you dreamt. You just kept saying ' _I'm not Tom_ ' and 'I _am Beca Mitchell, I am Beca Mitchell_ '. It was scary." He paused, feeling Beca's eyes boring into the side of his head, before continuing, his voice low and broken. "Do you hate it so much?"

This made Beca look into his eyes. "Hate what?"

"Being you. Being Tom Reeves." He placed a hand on Beca's head again and began stroking backwards repeatedly. "Why do you hate it, Tom? Why is being you so terrible? Don't ever think you're not cared for. You are so cared for. Don't think you're not loved. You _are_ loved." There was a brief respite, before he carried on. It sounded like he had a lump in his throat. "You are a great guy. You can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, but can't everybody? You're helpful, you're kind… You're my best mate, Tom. You're special to me." He sighed, pulling his hand back and running both of them down his face. "Please don't forget that."

When he looked back up at the bed after a minute of deep thinking, he blinked at it, exhaling loudly, his eyes watering.

Beca was already asleep.

* * *

Beca returned to the library the next day, still incognito. She really didn't need a repeat of the previous day, in which she managed to offend Chloe Beale without actually saying anything wrong. It was no longer a mystery why this girl disliked Tom, and Beca seriously wanted to put it right.

But now was not the time.

She sat down at the computer she was at before, turning it on and straight away logging into her WikiHow account. She honestly wasn't expecting anything, but when she checked her notifications and saw she had twelve replies to her submission, relief washed over her instantly. She scrolled through them, and grew more and more disappointed and agitated as she went. Each one was long, rambling, and if it wasn't dismissive, it was pervy.

Beca sighed and hung her head, scolding herself for getting her hopes up. She scrolled down to the very bottom of the page, where the last reply was. Her eyes flicked over it and she was about to delete it until she read the whole thing. She fumbled with the cursor, moving it away from 'delete' and repositioning it over the link given in the message, her heart speeding up in her chest.

 **Hi iambeca1,**

 **What you're talking about is psychic evacuation. Click this:**

 **hppt:/ / www. evacuationofthepsyche .com**

 **Good luck,**

 **Stacie (aka Adsc1996)**


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